Cerberus
by Bald as Malak
Summary: Chapter 5. Cerebus' trap is sprung and Shepard is captured. A short story about Shepard and Cerebus, covering Sheppard's history on Earth before the game and her links to, and early battles with, the secret organization
1. Chapter 1

**-CEREBUS-**

**_Author's Note_**_: This will be a short 3-4 chapter story about Sheppard, Liara, and Cerebus, providing my own version of Sheppard's history and the links between the main story and the very scant mentions of the otherwise rich fodder of Cerebus. It was sparked in part because I thought it would be very interesting to see if the main story and Cerebus could be better linked than what the game did and because I like to put history around the characters I play  
_

_ For anyone familiar with my longer Knights of the Republic story, Patterns of Betrayal and Redemption, I hope to finish that (finally) directly afterwards._

--

**Liara, _Normandy_, one week after Liara was rescued from Therum.**

_Goddess, thank you for this peace. I've missed it._

I've been on the _Normandy_ for a week, but it feels like a lifetime since I've had time to myself. I need the quiet, the time without distractions where I can settle myself, remember who I am when I'm not getting pulled by the needs and emotions of others.

We've left the Feros system, heading towards the nearest relay. The ship is quiet. Most of the crew are sleeping, resting from the days of constant vigil that marked our time on the ruined planet. There are still a few muffled footsteps that find their way through the ceiling above, but they are easy to ignore, like the background noises around any research dig.

The computer screen in front of me much of the data I collected from the Prothean ruins on Therum. I wonder what I'll find in it. I haven't had a chance to look at it since the ruin almost collapsed upon us. _So much was lost, another piece of history destroyed. I wonder what I might have found._

I sigh. Too much has happened recently and I'm finding it hard to settle into my work. But I know the cure to that, an old trick left over from my days as a student of biotics. I stretch my body, my legs straight and my arms overhead, then nudge the chair with my mind until it and I are balanced on the corner of one leg. There's something about this position that settles me, its tension between the luxurious stretch and intense focus I need to maintain my balance biotically.

I let out a long breath as peace steals over me.

A discreet cough behind me startles me, sending the chair and me tumbling to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Liara," Sheppard says, moving quickly towards me, "I didn't mean to startle you." As always, I'm a bit surprised at how much of Sheppard there is. _And how strong she is, _I think as she lifts me off the floor effortlessly and places me on my feet. Sheppard searches my face for a moment, one hand still on me, then steps back. As always, the contrast between her dark skin, bright green eyes, and light, almost white hair is a bit shocking.

"I apologize Commander," I say in a rush, my fingers touching my neck where it almost burns in embarrassment, "that was very-"

"How do you do that?" she interrupts quietly, raising her hand. Her sharp eyes, I notice, are unusually merry. "How do you balance like that, with your body all stretched out and your chair on one leg?"

"I'm sorry?" I blink. _Is she laughing at me?_ "I know it's not very professional, Commander-"

"It's _okay_, Liara. You're not an Alliance soldier and I don't expect you to salute either. Now tell me, how do you do it?"

I stare at her. Her smile is unusual, mirrored in a way by the re-orientation of the small scars scattered around her face, a result of shrapnel I've been told. The aura that surrounds her body, however, is an almost pure, light yellow aura. She's amused, it's clear, but that's not surprising. Others are always laughing at my habits; I've grown used to it.

"When we are young, Commander, asari children practice balancing on chairs like that. It's for training us in concentration and balance. We all grow out of it, of course... well, except myself..." My voice falters. Sheppard steps in, gently reaches out and removes my fingers from my neck. Her aura's yellow is now dotted by little drops of silver and her eyes are sad behind the smile that remains.

"Show me," she says simply, putting my hand gently by my side.

I can't stop staring at her, my eyes feeling like they're getting bigger and bigger as I'm waiting for her to laugh or do something else, something that will break this unlikely moment.

"But..." Sheppard raises her eyebrow when I pause. "I'm sorry, Commander, but you need to be a biotic to do it."

"Oh," Sheppard says simply, considering me, her smile fading. Her eyes seem to bore into me, but her aura, now divided into large eddies of red and blue push at each other, suggest some sort of internal conflict. "Too bad," she says finally. "Well, I may try anyway. If you hear a crash in my room, you'll know that I tried." Sheppard's smiling again, but her eyes aren't merry this time and her aura is now mostly silver.

"Commander-" I start to say, wanting to do something that will make her lose the sadness that now fills her. But I don't know what to say, don't even know what I've done to make her sad.

"What are you working on, Liara?" Sheppard asks after a moment.

"What? Oh, my work...!" I say, touching my neck that burns yet again. Sheppard nods. "I'm looking at my data from the Prothean ruins on Therum, to see if there's anything I can use."

"And?"

Sheppard listens far longer than I expect as I explain, asking surprisingly insightful questions from time to time, displaying a mind far quicker than I knew she had. It's been a long time since I've met someone who's shown an interest in my work and several hours pass before it occurs to me that Sheppard must be here in her off-duty time.

"I'm sorry, Commander," I say, leaning back from the holo console we've been using, my fingers touching my neck. "You must be very tired and I've been taking up all your time with my boring work."

"Uh huh," Sheppard grunts, still leaning over the displayed diagrams we've been looking at. "Why did the Protheans build it this..." She pauses, her eyebrows bunch together, and then she turns towards me, half of her dark skinned face lit by the bright yellow light of the console. "What? I'm sorry, Liara, did you say something?"

"I said..." I pause, and Sheppard waits silently, her eyes flicking back and forth between the console and my face, as if she's impatient to get back to the data on the screen. "You don't actually find this interesting, do you?"

"It's fascinating," Sheppard smiles absently, her eyes moving back to the data. "And it helps give some structure perspective to the dreams I have because of the Prothean beacon." I open my mouth, but I don't know what to say; the only things I can think of are apologies. "What do you think the purpose of this was," Sheppard asks, pointing to a small room on the diagram.

We pass the next four hours in quiet study of that diagram and other maps I've drawn showing the layout of rooms in other Prothean ruins. Most of the time is spent in silence, broken only by a few quite musings and questions we ask each other.

**--**

**Liara, _Normandy_, a week later**

"Try this," Sheppard says, standing over me, slipping my biotic amp into my hand when I turn to face her, "When you get a moment, of course," she continues when I hesitate.

Sheppard and I have settled into a habit, spending time during our off-duty hours working together in the back room of the medical bay. Most of the time, she's working on her own projects and I'm learning that she's a very competent tech. For the last two days, she's been working on the biotic amps of Wrex, Kaidan and now my own. That they all have very different designs and are from different manufacturers hasn't seemed to impede her at all.

"Thank you," I say, putting the amp down. I don't want to embarrass Sheppard by trying the amp now. A present from my Mother during better times, the amp had been made by some of the best asari designers. Despite Sheppard's apparent prowess, I doubt she could have done much with it.

When I return to my work, Sheppard stays where she is, first stretching and then letting loose her long hair from the knot she usually keeps it in. As she absently rearranges and ties up her hair, I wonder why it no longer bothers me that she's looking over my shoulder. The question slowly fades as my work captures my attention fully again. I don't notice when Sheppard leaves.

Later, when she's left, I discover that she's improved the biotic amp's performance considerably.

--

**Liara, _Normandy_, three weeks later**

_"Cerebus_."

Impressions follow, unbidden, unforgiving in their strength, and the terrible, barely suppressed panic they invoke cuts though my concentration, wrenching me from the suddenly dry words of the texts displayed on the holo screen.

_Whose thoughts am I touching_? I wonder. I reach out, taste the _Lis_ signature of the person. To my surprise, I discover they are Sheppard's, our Commander.

More impressions follow. _A name, a nightmare, a sea creature hidden in the dark, its tentacles spreading unseen to encompass everything._

As the images and emotions writhe around the inside of Sheppard's brain, the body follows, its reaction delayed but no less strong. _The sudden intake marking the end of frozen silence. Blood thunders in the ear, its beat galloping like charging Krogan. Cold sweat blossoms at the back of the neck. Thoughts and images swirl like the clouds of an approaching thunderstorm. And amidst it all, simple plain words uttered from the comm burrow like nebula worms through the chaos, leaving no meaning as they record themselves in Sheppard's implants: places, observation data, and other limited bits of information about a mysterious organization called "Cerebus" that used to work clandestinely for the Alliance but now has gone rogue. _

And amidst all this, Sheppard's acquiesces to the offered mission, her voice impossibly calm, nonchalant.

I can no longer stand still. Her pain is too strong; it ignites the Goddess' healer within. I stand, then nearly tumble when my legs give way, as if they have taken on Sheppard's cold dread, as if I too feel...

_A lifetime's worth of pain... inflicted. Echoes of helplessness... of a desperate plan. A thought that sweeps all aside, though only for a moment: "Do they know?" Twisting uncertainty returns before analysis can begin, a darkness opens underneath, spinning a deadly illusion of blissful, impossible escape. She struggles, she _resists.

"I'll be in my room," Sheppard tell her XO in the CIC above, her voice still so calm, her will allowing nothing else. I want to run, to catch her before she falls, but I walk carefully. My legs are still stiff and awkward with the weight of Sheppard's fears and tumbling to the ground will not get me to the Commander any quicker. Besides, I'm afraid that if I fall I won't be able to get back up, that I'll be lost in the tempest that washes over me in waves.

I aim towards Sheppard's room rather than the stairs she now descends. She's moving faster than I, her resistance to the chaos unbelievable strong, ignoring the reserves within that grow weaker and weaker. _How can she bear it?_ What I feel is diluted, weakened, and yet it is almost enough to overwhelm me, who has been trained in the healing of wounds within?

I see Sheppard walking towards her room as I emerge from the med-room. Each step she takes seems to grow stiffer, and sweat begins to glisten on her forehead. Kaidan turns from his holo console nearby, sensing perhaps a little of what crashes so powerfully over me. "Sheppard?" he asks, his voice tentative.

"Later, Kaiden," she says, her lips pulling upwards into a brief, smile that so terribly belies the howling dark voices and images. Her door hisses open, and I force myself to walk quicker. I must get inside her room before she senses my presence, before she locks the door.

I'm three steps away when the door begins to close, when Sheppard starts to stumble, her knees stiffening and her body leaning leftwards. "Liara?" Kaidan asks now, and Sheppard's head turns, her eyes white, her mouth opening.

"Commander," I say, almost running the last few steps, surprising myself with how calm and casual I sound. Sheppard turns her body, her face now a rictus, her arms reaching to push me away. "You wanted to see me," I continue as the door slams shut. I sense the micro-gears seal the room from intrusion.

"Liara," Sheppard hisses weakly, "get out."

"No."

Sheppard cocks her arm back clumsily, as if to hit me, but what is within her can no longer be denied. _Memories, voices begging for release, cursing. Pain and violation blossom like a thousand open sores around the spirit within and without. Barriers, so hard and so natural, crash and crumble no longer able to carry the weight of forgetting. And, despite her impending collapse, the last tatters of will try to push me away, push away my so unwelcome arms. _

I grasp at her tumbling body as it falls, getting underneath. She's much heavier than me, and her weight drives me to one knee. As I support here there, trying to muster my strength, the flood of impressions and emotions quiets, then ends as Sheppard falls unconscious. I marvel at the contrast I now support. Sheppard's body is full in every way, and so very solid. And yet beneath the hard-earned muscle and her natural voluptuousness, her vibrant presence is silent, drained almost to emptiness.

I pull my attention away from the slumped body in my arms, listening for movements outside. No one is banging on the door, and Kaidan's faint puzzlement is already fading, consumed gradually by the tasks awaiting his attention on his holo screen.

I take calming breaths, trying to think about what I need to do. Sheppard will not welcome this intervention, but there was no other choice for me. There still is none. A war is taking place between different parts of Sheppard in _Lis_-the place beyond dreams where the individual and the divine meet, touching each other like both fresh and eternal lovers. Only my unworthy, barely trained self can help.

"Can't work here," I mutter to myself. Taking a deep breath, I lift myself to my feet and look around until I find her bed. Slowly I pull her backwards, thanking the Goddess that her room is so sparsely furnished. When I feel the edge of her bed hit the back of my legs, I heave a deep sigh. I'm already so tired, it's all I can do to fall backwards unto the firm mattress, Sheppard's body slumping onto my front, its weight pushing out my breath. I roll her to one side and concentrate on capturing my lost breath, focusing on this simple task to push aside the new panic that batters at me... my own. Mustering my strength and will, I stand up so that I can arrange Sheppard until she is comfortably lying on her back on the bed, her body straight and her arms crossed over her torso. Black spots and stars dancing within my vision, I collapse beside her.

I should not be this tired. My body and mind have been hardened by our relentless, almost hopeless search for our elusive prey-Saren... and my mother Benezia-and our frantic efforts to avoid their suddenly omnipresent allies, the Geth.

"What is it about Cerebus that frightens a women taking on half the galaxy?" I wonder aloud. "She never reacted like this to the other threats." I try to gently prove the edges of her emotions. Her will somehow senses me despite all that must be flooding it. I sense it gathering Sheppard's attention, trying to draw her from the battle within to push away the unwanted intruder, witness to this unforgiveable moment of weakness.

I could flee. Goddess knows I'm tempted, and I'm fairly sure that Sheppard will not succumb in this battle with her... past. Perhaps Sheppard and I could pretend this never happened, perhaps I would be forgiven for seeing her weak. But, this battle within Sheppard is an old, oft repeated one, I now sense. It must eventually be won or lost. Submerging whatever injuries she now faces will not help Sheppard for much longer.

"I won't go away," I tell her unmoving body, pushing aside my own doubts. This is not a moment for the scientist, who finds solace and relief from her own insecurities in the quiet perusal of ancient ruins. A healer, no matter how inadequate, unpractised, or alone, must face the task with all of herself. "Yes, Sheppard, you may shun me when this is done, and then I will lose even the small part of you that I now have. What use would it be to pretend I didn't know, though? Better to be shunned, even cast off the _Normandy_ then let this continue. The galaxy needs you whole, not broken, even if it annoys you."

Her will does not acknowledge my words, and her breathing starts to speed up, her body tense. I can't let her wake. I push against her consciousness, driving it gently but firmly back into _Lis_. Though Sheppard's will is stronger than my own, it is also untrained, embattled, and already exhausted. In the end, all it can do is whisper curses at me as I guide it slowly beyond unconsciousness to _Lis_.

Asari do not impose healing on any, save for children and the mentally unstable. What I'm about to do will not only be shunned by Sheppard. My own people will condemn it when they learn what I have done. But I'm already an outcast from those that call me _Sister_. As for the Goddess, She will forgive me, I think.

Taking a deep breath, I gently search Sheppard's memories, looking for a holding dream that will relax her, put her in a time and place that is peaceful. I hear the clinking of glasses against a backdrop of music and laughter, see a dark bar in which young human cadet trainees talk around small table. In a table at the far corner, a younger, relaxed Sheppard sits, though to my surprise she already has the shrapnel scars that dot her face and neck. She's smiling as she listens to the stories of those she sits with. They are telling tales of training experiences at their military academy. Sheppard, I sense, will remain mostly quiet for the night, content to participate only with ear and good humour.

It's not what I expected from the leader I know, though perhaps I should have. After all, Sheppard and I have fallen into a habit of working quietly together in the medical bay, going for hours without talking. Could it really be true that Sheppard enjoys the silent sessions as much as I?

But there is no time for my wondering. I leave Sheppard in the memory that is "safety," knowing that it will hold her while I seek the Goddess' help. I let my _Lis_ conscious float, taking deep dream breaths that ripple the darkness around me, each exhalation carrying an unspoken prayer while I wait for the Goddess' presence to find me.

Idle, unbidden thoughts play across my mind. I wonder why Sheppard has touched me so deeply in such a short time; and whether I'll find another now that she's chosen Kaiden instead. I wonder if the pain will go away after the mission, when I'm alone again in the comforting ruins of the intriguing dead.

I need more calm. A disciplined Asari can fall into non-thought within a moment, but the Goddess forgives the rest of us for our childish distractions. _I need to think about something less personal_. I flit through the puzzles I always carry in my mind. Why do the sentient races share so many features? Why do the languages of the Citadel's different cultures translate so easily through its Universal Translator technology? Are there races and cultures out there so strange and different that the UT wouldn't work for them? And what about our sight? I've always wondered why all the races use the same spectrum of light for visual perception.

"Shh, Liara," speaks the Goddess, her voice like a sudden warmth that lifts and cradles my entire body. "Let the scientist and her dream go."

"Goddess," I whisper, my heart near bursting with joy and wonder. I've never felt her so close. "Dear beloved Mother, this humble servant asks that you bring forth the healer you placed within us all, so that we may do your bidding."

I am known as a poor healer among my folk. I've always been too distracted by other dreams: discovery, knowledge, puzzles pieced together by relentless, soul pleasing pursuit. But the heart can compensate for many weaknesses and mine still bends towards Sheppard.

"Healing is an illusion that comforts the uninjured," the Goddess speaks slowly, like the rumbling whisper of the slow shifting earth in the depths of a dig. As she speaks, I can see Sheppard's injuries emerge, then assemble quickly piece-by-piece. I don't understand them, can not touch them until Sheppard gives permission. But I can sense their strength. They are greater than I had imagined. Many are old, inflicted deliberately and relentlessly, physically and spiritually, during the time of her emergence into adulthood.

"An injury can not be undone," the Goddess continues as the puzzle assembles, "nor forgotten. It must be accepted, transformed into new growth and experience. It must birth compassion and forge new understandings. It must be the heart of reincarnation, of the creation of a new and wiser self."

The last pieces of Sheppard's injuries click into place. _They are so_ _strong, how can she accept them?_ My worries are quickly dismissed, however, by the calm presence of the Goddess, who shows me silently how to construct walls of compassion between the pain of Sheppard's injuries and her will.

"We must help her see," the Goddess whispers in my mind. "Help her tell her story, so that she may heal."

"Could she continue without healing, Goddess?"

"This one... yes. But not forever and her healing will be harder with each and every day."

"She has already survived for so long... My mother once told me that all healings are risky, and that more so when the injury is deep or occurred long ago."

"It is true, that your Sheppard may die, or lose her grip on reality."

I steel myself for my next words. "We can not lose her, Goddess. She is the only one who believes in the threat of the Reapers. All people may die if she no longer leads."

"Liara, life will not fail, only falter. And is that not its way, with or without the 'Reapers?'"

"Goddess...?"

"My quiet child, we diminish ourselves, and life, when we fall to cold calculation. The cause does not matter, if achieving it pollutes the thing you seek to preserve."

"But there are-" I start to say, but then the Goddess is gone and I'm awake. The inside of me feels so empty now without the Goddess, but to my surprise, the loneliness within has been replaced by quiet warmth without.

I take a deep breath, try to figure out where I am. Somehow, my head has come to rest on Sheppard's stomach, nestled against the slope of her large breasts. Her stomach moves gently up and down, and I can hear her slow rhythmic heartbeat thumping beneath my ear.

"This is... " I sigh to myself, "wonderful." It's hard to think of Saren, of the threatened worlds and people in this moment. There is only this, this intimacy however unconsciously given by Sheppard. It feels right, despite the enormity of the threat beyond the locked doors of her quarters.

"Goddess," I breathe, and she returns- No, I realize, I return to her. "Goddess, I understand."

The Goddess says nothing, but I feel her warm acceptance. "Goddess," I continue, "the memories within Sheppard, they feel..." My voice trails off.

"Terrible," the Goddess says simply. "Yes, they are, but she must face them."

"I don't think she will do so willingly, Goddess, and she is a person of exceptional will."

"Trust," the Goddess whispers, and then I'm back in _Lis_. The dark bar where I left Sheppard reconstructs itself around us. She doesn't see us at first. She's leaning back in her chair, smiling, her startling green eyes merry and her posture relaxed as she listens to the increasingly wandering, slurred tales of her companions.

"Sheppard," the Goddess says quietly through my lips.

She turns lazily towards me, us. Her brow creases and the youthful relaxation melts off her face. Her eyes turn harder and more calculating as she considers us. "You're not supposed to be here," she says calmly, but the Goddess' sight lets me see what Sheppard tries to hide: the scraping of fear's claws in the dark caves beyond her bright eyes; the vein that pumps wildly beneath the now thicker muscle of her neck; the fragile rigidity of her curved lips.

"You are wrong," we say. "We are needed here, but we can not help without your permission."

"Then I do not give it," Sheppard retorts instantly.

"Your unconscious has already given it, warrior, for We could not be here without it. All that remains is for you to acknowledge your need. Healing must always start with the conscious admission of what the soul already knows."

"I don't believe you," Sheppard says louder, her voice slightly unravelled, desperate. "Get out of my head, now!"

"Cerebus," we say gently.

"Bitch," Sheppard grits out, her body rigid as she resists her body's urge to crumple into itself.

I know that _Lis_ is the place where all that is inside becomes visible. Still, it's frightening to see this vulnerability, this astonishing break in the Commander's usually absolute composure.

"I'm sorry, young human," we say. "You've carried a terrifying burden too long unacknowledged and untended. The Goddess is not among your people yet, and we did not know of your-"

"You're not Liara?" Sheppard's voice shakes. Tears have joined the signs of Sheppard's distress, filling her eyes, flowing down her face like tiny, impossible waterfalls, and I wonder how she can still talk amidst such distress.

"There is no separation between Liara and the Goddess. We are always one, even when our divine aspect sleeps."

"What do you want of me? I'm human and I don't believe in Gods of any race or being."

"The Goddess exists both among and beyond all life. We do not require your belief to exist, nor do we require these things to heal. We only require your acquiescence, conscious and unconscious."

"I will not yield to you!" Sheppard grits through her teeth, her eyes now almost all white.

"Good," we nod. "We do not require it. Healing is a sharing, nothing more. What you make of it is up to you."

"There is no sharing without domination."

"Is that what you felt, when you worked silently besides all those hours on the _Normandy_, when the rest of the squad slept?"

Sheppard starts, then her eyes narrow. "I call it 'sharing limited space.'"

"And will it surprise you, Sheppard, when I tell you that you're full of shit."

Impossibly, Sheppard laughs, sharp and short. "I can't lie to you, can I?" she asks after a moment. "Or at least, not in this place... where are we, somewhere in my head?"

"We Asari call it _Lis_. It's the boundary between the individual and the life to which we all belong. It is the place that dreams, hopes, and belief call home."

"Sounds nice," Sheppard sighs. To my surprise, a small, gentle smile curves her full lips, and the tears and desperation shimmer on top of a quiet, wistful yearning. _Have I never known this woman I've called friend?_

After a moment, Sheppard continues, "Tell me more about this healing-sharing thing."

"It will not be easy," we say, our voice now more stern, though still gentle, "but it is simple. You share with us the experiences of what happened to you. In that sharing, you will find that you know the way forward for your healing, and once you leave _Lis_, it will be up to you to walk it."

"Calling this sharing 'simple' does not make it so."

"Choose."

"You're certainly not Liara... or Liara alone, I guess..." The words trail off. Then she straightens her back, takes a deep breath, her face growing determined. "Now or never," she murmurs. Then her voice grows firm, respectful in the same way that she speaks to Captain Anderson. "Yes. Please, do it now."

The Goddess says nothing, but all around Sheppard and I emerges a dismal scene of ruin. Hard rain crashes down, but _Lis_ does not allow it to obscure our sight. My feet are instantly wet from the pond I'm standing in. Beside us is an open, metal trap door over a narrow tunnel with a ladder leading into the darkness below. Rubble forms small and large mounds around us, riddled by the worm-like strands of rusting reinforced bars. Beyond them, I can barely see the outlines of many, drab gray apartment buildings. The buildings around the perimeter of destruction are uniform, bland, white paint chipping off grey concrete until it reaches the gaping sides facing us, where the sides of the surrounding buildings have all collapsed. It looks like the sight of an orbital bombardment.

"Liara?" says the Commander, her voice slightly higher, tentative. I turn around and find the source, a young teenager dressed in ragged, brown pants and shirt that barely cover her body that shows how voluptuous she must have been before she added the layers of hardened muscle she now has. Her clothes and skin are covered in a fine gray dust, small and longer rips and cuts, and she smells sour, typical of unwashed humans. Also surprising is her hair and eyes. Her eyes are a deep, woody brown and her hair is a space-like black, unlike the emerald green eyes and platinum hair that distinguish her now.

"Sheppard..." I hesitate, trying to find words that are supposed to calm the patient, words that I read ten five-years ago when I studied with my mother and her disciples.

"Spare me whatever comforting words the book told you to say, Liara," she says, her voice harder. I touch my burning neck instinctively, and Sheppard's hard, straight mouth turns briefly upwards. "Embarrassment, or uncertainty if I recall correctly... from my dream...? Are you a dream, along with the memories of space ships, aliens, and the other marvels, or is this?" She flicks her eyes towards the surrounding destruction.

"Neither."

After a moment she nods. "I remember... Asari healing, right?" Then her eyes lose focus. She cocks her ear, hears something that I don't. Her eyes grow wild as she searches the piled up rubble around us with her eyes.

"What is this place?" I say, wincing at the uncertainty that's found its way back into my voice.

She doesn't answer for the longest time, continuing to search the rubble with her eyes.

"Sheppard?" I ask again.

"Freedom," she says quietly, "and a little revenge." I wait.

"This," she gestures around her after another minute, "is where the Alliance military found me." As she talks, the dream slides into a different time. Sheppard looks the same, but the scars on her face and neck are replaced by at least ten fine cuts, fresh blood leaking down her face like dark red tears. Other wounds dot her body. Around us, the air is filled with fine grey dust and plumes of black smoke that billow upwards from scattered fires in the destroyed buildings.

"I had to take out their base," she continues softly, "Remove all the physical evidence so that they couldn't find me again."

"Find you?"

Sheppard continues as if she didn't hear me.

"The holo records were the easiest, of course. I made a virus to take care of that. It was the physical trails that I had to get rid of. DNA samples, printouts, and..." Sheppard's eyes flash as she spits out the next words, "_photographs_ on the walls."

"Photographs?"

Again she ignores me as she continues. "The plan was to get the Alliance soldiers to bomb the headquarters into dust. They chose to invade, instead. That building," she points to one large pile of rubble right beside us, "was the HK's headquarters. When the Alliance sent in their strike teams, the HK blew it up to protect their secrets. Then the Alliance levelled the entire neighbourhood."

"You caused this?" I wince at how my voice rises. _A healer listens, not judges_, I remind myself.

Sheppard doesn't react, though. "Yes, it was my fault..." she says quietly. "I thought I was so smart, thought I had it all planned out. The Alliance was supposed to bomb it to dust, take the HK, me, and everyone else out. They tried to invade the base instead, despite all the warnings I left them. The strike teams were obliterated when the HK blew up the building." Bloody, twisted corpses appear, littering the ground. Sheppard shakes her head, and her voice turns wistful. "I believed... then, that the Alliance military wouldn't risk its troops for such a dangerous mission. The HK, I realize now, counted on them doing just that. It gave them the warning they needed to get out."

"HK?"

"Hacker's Kollective. That's what they were called then."

"And now?"

Sheppard doesn't answer, doesn't move, and yet somehow she seems to grow smaller.

"Cerebus?"

"Probably," she says, her voice small.

"So the Alliance really didn't capture them here in...?"

"Singapore. No, I don't think the Alliance did, even though they levelled the entire neighbourhood after the HK blew up its hideout. The HK were very thorough. The Alliance recon teams uncovered many reinforced tunnels beneath this wreckage. This was one of them," she gestures at the trap door nearby. "Some of them lead to several empty garages. Other than that, all they found were a lot of half-starved corpses blown into little bits and some melted OSD's. They weren't very... happy with the results."

"It wasn't a total loss, though," she sighs. "They got me." The rain returns, the dust and smoke almost gone. Military squads have appeared. They are scattered throughout the wreckage, clearly searching the area for something or someone. And in a circle surrounding us, eight soldiers are now pointing their guns straight at Sheppard, yelling at her to lie down on the ground or get shot. As soon as she lies down, three men sit down on her arms and legs, while a fourth jabs her with a needle.

The whole scene then shifts, transforming into a small room with a single table, lit by a solitary light directly above it. The only softness in the room is the shadowed corners. Two soldiers enter the door, Sheppard firmly held between then. They push her roughly into the chair and then exit the room.

A team of three hard-eyed men sit across the table from Sheppard. Two of the men are clearly military, sharing the same dark blue uniform. Though his physique and posture suggest military training as well, the man on the left wears dark glasses and clothes. Upon his face is a bland smile, one out of place with the frowns of the others and easy to mistrust.

Unlike the crisply dressed men interrogating her, Sheppard is still dressed in the ripped and dust-covered rags that seem to accentuate rather than hide the ripe body beneath. The two military men steal glances at her, scowling when they catch themselves; the man in black allows his gaze to linger, a small smile on his face. The cuts on Sheppard's face and neck are still untreated. Most have sealed themselves, though a few still leak blood. Dried, smeared blood stains show where she has unsuccessfully tried to wipe the blood off her face.

"Who are you?" the man in the centre demands, his words like fired bullets. His eyes are a deep black, his skin is dark for humans and his head is shaved bald. There is an air of command about him. _He expects others to obey his orders._

"Subject HEP-106." Sheppard rips off her left sleeve, revealing a tattoo of letters and numbers underneath. "An experiment."

"Name," snaps the man on the left. His uniform is covered in the same dust that stains Sheppard's rags. Though it's hard to tell behind the table, he appears to be the largest of the three men, and likely the youngest as well. There's a vibrancy, a presence to him that speaks of a person of action.

"Zephyr."

"Full name, girl!"

"That's all I've ever know," Sheppard shrugs. _Zephyr..._ _Where did Sheppard come from_? I wonder

The man in the centre raises his hand slightly, and the other soldier leans back. "HEP?" he asks.

"I'm not sure what it means," Sheppard says. Her words are measured, precise, as if she's talking about something technical, but there's a quaver behind them that she can't hide. "My best guess is Human Enhancement Project, or something like that."

"Right," drawls the man in the centre, "and what was the nature of this experiment?" He leans back, his arms crossed, his face turning to the side.

"I'm not sure." Sheppard coughs, bringing her tied hands up to cover her mouth. When she drops her hands, _Lis_ directs my gaze to a tiny, black object now in her grasp. When her hands drop below the table, small legs emerge from the object and it skitters silently from her hands towards the dark corner to her right. "Not 100 sure at least. It's a long term study. And they were looking into..." Sheppard pauses, her face screwing up momentarily, her voice suddenly dry. "Into whether biotics and other traits could be... inherited."

"How long was this study?" demands the man on the right. Unlike the two uniformed men, this one is dressed in a close-fitting, dark grey shirt and pants. He is shorter than the others, wider and as solid as anyone I've ever seen. His nose was broken long ago, and a long scar slices across the side of his neck. His eyes are covered by dark shades, and there is a small smile on his face that chills for all its apparent warmth.

"I'm not sure. As long as I can remember... maybe since the eezo accident that sealed off the Blue Zone."

"The Element Zero accident occurred eighteen years ago," scoffs the man on the right. Turning to the man in the centre, he continues, "General, sir. There's no way the HK could have remained undiscovered for that long. I lost a lot of good men today and, respectfully sir, their memory deserves the truth."

"Commander," the General raises his hand slightly, "we will get the truth here today."

"Sir," the Commander snaps. He turns back towards Sheppard, his face unreadable, the anger on his face gone as if it had never been there.

"Continue," the General orders Sheppard.

Sheppard doesn't say anything at first, her eyes now as wide as they can be as she stares at the General. The man opens his mouth, but Sheppard finally starts speaking. "I don't know how they did it. And I don't think you can assume that the HK was there the whole-"

The Commander interrupts, his voice flat. "There's no way your gang could have gone inside afterwards. The perimeter was strictly guarded."

"And yet," the General adds, "we evacuated the area before sealing it." The Commander sits back, his face thoughtful as the General continues. "I think the question we should be asking now is, how did you get inside the Blue Zone... what was the name?"

"Zephyr. I've always been in the Blue Zone. I grew up with the Ten Street Reds gang." Sheppard shrugs. "I can't think of any reason why someone would have placed me there after I was born."

"And how did this gang avoid our sweeps?" demands the Commander. "We searched the Blue Zone thoroughly."

"Many people, mostly poor, lived beneath the city. There are a lot of old shelters... you know, the ones built in the mid twenty-first century. So when the authorities came in, we all hid."

"Sir," the Commander interrupts, "that story doesn't make sense. I've read those records, and those bunkers were searched. Thoroughly."

"We knew how to hide," Sheppard says when the General looks aback at her. "We'd been doing it for decades."

"How?" the General snaps.

"Doesn't matter now," Sheppard mutters to herself, "HK got them all." Taking a deep breath, she starts telling them of tunnels and rooms secreted behind clever holographic illusions, and of others hidden by simple, mechanical doors activated from carefully concealed triggers. "In case the surface sheep could detect the power signatures of the electronics and holographics," Sheppard responds when they ask her about the crude mechanical doors.

"Is that how the HK got away?" the Commander demands, his fists clenched on the table.

"I presume so," Sheppard shrugs. "The HK already knew them when they came for the gang. They had years to study and improve them, and they were always thoroughly prepared."

"We'll need to send some teams and techs to check this out, Sir," the Commander says to the General.

"Get the ball rolling," the General responds. As the Commander types his command into his omni-tool, the General returns his attention to Sheppard. "So, if you were hiding in these tunnels, how did you end up being an experiment?"

"They found me." Sheppard says softly, her head bowed down. "One day, the HK found us all."

_And it was all my fault._ Only I hear the words Sheppard says in her mind_._


	2. Chapter 2

**CEREBUS**

* * *

**A/N: **A short chapter while I'm editing other bits

* * *

**Liara, in **_**Lis**_

"They found me." Sheppard says, her head bowed down as the soldiers lean forward to catch her quiet words. "One day, the HK found us all."

The General's mouth moves, but I can't hear his words as the scene streaks, black shadows and grey tables merging into an earthen tunnel with dripping sides. I'm running now, keeping beside a gasping Sheppard who's pelting down the corridor. She's younger now, only slightly through her body transformation, maybe three or so years younger than she was in the interrogation room.

The tunnel we run through is rough, dark, and yet I can see clearly, the surface seemingly lit by traceries of blue glowing lines. _Some kind of night vision enhancement_, I think. _And it's unlike anything we used on the _Normandy. I look at Sheppard, trying to see what the technology looks like, but I can't see anything. _It's much smaller too._

I start to wonder what technology it could be, but I'm distracted by a voice shouting behind us, "We got one down here!" The voice is quickly followed by the sounds of feet scuffing earth and the rattling of small stones.

"Think, Zephyr, think." Sheppard gasps, speeding up. "The surface," she continues as we pound past a tunnel going left, "I've got to get to the surface."

We come to a fork, turning right without stopping. "One, two," Sheppard counts breathlessly as we hurtle past two openings branching to the left, before making a hard, learning turn down the third tunnel on the right. Behind us, I hear shouted commands, their source closer than before. "Seven, take your squad to the left. Five and Eight, follow me."

Sheppard skids to a halt about fifteen metres along the tunnel, slapping her hand on what seems to be a random spot on the earthen wall. Something shimmers in front of us, and a door previously hidden hisses open before us. _A holographic illusion_, I realize as I enter the revealed tunnel. _A crude one, but it's dark enough that it might work. _ Sheppard hits another featureless place on the wall, reactivating the illusion and closing the door behind us.

I want to listen, to see if the men following us can find the door, but I'm pulled with Sheppard as she walks quickly down the corridor, her hands on her hips, her breath coming in deep rasping breaths. After a minute, or perhaps two, I hear shouts behind us, too muffled to hear clearly. Sheppard holds her breath but keeps walking. The voices go away after a moment, but she continues slowly, her breath slowly calming, her head half turned toward the path behind. After a few minutes, she starts to walk more quickly.

I'm not sure how long Sheppard walks down that corridor before we encounter the metallic ladder heading up. Though it feels like only a few moments in _Lis_, Sheppard is now stumbling, exhausted. "Up or sleep?" she whispers to herself.

"Up," says a voice above her. She starts turning, her body leaning to flee, but a man in black combat armour drops down on top of her, flattening her to the ground. Sheppard struggles briefly, but her tired, half-starved body is no match for the trained soldier.

"Please," she gasps after a few moments, "tell them you didn't find me. I'll give you anything."

"So young and already ready to give it up," the man sneers. "Don't worry, chit. You'll get lots of opportunities for that later." Sheppard renews her struggles, but the man, now looking bored, secures her hands and feet with plasti-metal ties.

"I got her," the man shouts up as he throws her body over his shoulder. As the man carries her up the ladder, the tunnel fades away, and I'm returned to the interrogation room with Sheppard.

"We were always getting raided in the tunnels," the older Sheppard is saying, her voice jarringly emotionless compared to the panicked girl of moments before. "At least, that's what I was told. Every year or so, some authority would come looking for us. They would always catch a few, and then congratulate themselves for 'clearing the trash," Sheppard's lips curl as she deepens her voice to mimic a gruff male voice. Then she shrugs. "The raids stopped shortly after the accident. When we dared to go out and see why, we discovered that the district had been abandoned and the whole area sealed by the fence."

"Sir," the Commander interrupts, his voice respectful. "May I?" The General nods and the Commander continues. "Look girl, your story doesn't make sense. If you and your 'gang' were in those tunnels, then many of you were exposed to Element Zero just like all the other Singaporeans we pulled out. And that means that most of you would have been dying quickly after that. So why would you stay?" His voice now drips with doubt. "Why didn't you give yourselves up when it was clear how sick everyone was?"

"I was a kid," Sheppard shrugs, "I don't _know_ why we stayed. But if I had to guess… Dying wasn't new to the gangs. We prided ourselves as survivors. Red, our leader, he used to always say something like, 'The plagues of 2112, they hit us and we stayed. The viruses of 2135. Most of us died and we stayed. The blue dust of 2151? Many died again, but we got stronger. This is the price of freedom.'" Sheppard sighs. "We were poor, no one wanted us, and Red was a good talker. He would say that after the spaceport accident, we never had it so good. No more raids, more food because there was fewer of us, and this time we had the Blues."

The General creases his brow.

"The biotics. Anyway, all that went up a Krogan's behind. Red was one of the first to die when the HK raided the shelters about three years ago. They… they knew everything. Every hideaway, every tunnel… They just herded us through the tunnel like sheep, and then gathered us up into a bunch of trucks and plopped us into their complex. The one you just blew up."

"How many of you did they catch, then?" the General asks.

"I think they got all of us… which means fifty-three."

"Enough," the civilian barks out and Sheppard almost jumps in her seat, like a startled Shrinshri that suddenly discovers that the tasty bush in front holds a Hilar predator. "That's a pile of Turian shit, girl, and you know it! Did you think we're that dumb?" Sheppard doesn't say anything, her eyes wide and white, her body frozen as if fixed in place by the almost Krogan-like toothy scowl that the man in shades directs at her. "Your Tenth Street Gang doesn't exist," the man says after a moment, his voice now flowing like liquid glass, sharp despite the softness of his words. "It never did. It was always just a front for the HK." The man bends down, and pulls up a small holographic projector, punching a button on it as he slams it on the table. Words and diagrams flash up on the holographic screen.

The General and Commander stare silently at the display, their bland faces unable to hide their astonishment. "What the hell is this?" the General asks after a moment, his question directed to the civilian in shades.

The man in shades doesn't takes his gaze off of Sheppard, his glass reflecting her still frozen body, her eyes never once glancing up at the holographic screen. "Tell him, girl," he says quietly. "Any man who can come up with this stuff," he nods at the glowing display, "could get any girl he wants." He smiles coldly, his dark glasses tilting downwards slightly towards Sheppard's large chest. "I'm guessing you were on the menu."

Sheppard doesn't answer, doesn't gaze at the screen as the three men stare at her, their gazes all equally hard, demanding. The General turns towards the glowing screen again, looks back at Sheppard, then the screen again. His face grows angry and suddenly he bangs his fist on the table.

"Now," he snaps. "Tell us what this means right now because I damn well don't like being in the dark."

"I don't—" Sheppard starts to say, but the General slams his fist on the table again, then glares at Sheppard when she turns her face towards the left corner, staring fixedly at the corner with her jaw clenched.

"They're some very revolutionary plans," the civilian says after a few moments, the bland smile returning and mirroring the false calmness of his voice, "for human enhancement. Incomplete, but there's enough there for us to see their potential. Some are based on advanced genetic manipulation and others are for biotic training and strengthening. But none of those ideas are nearly as good as the third set which, quite _unfortunately_," the man drawls the last word, "are based on the quite illegal path of cybernetic implants." The man leans forward, and the smile is gone again. "The only reason why you're alive, girl, is because we wanted the ideas behind these incomplete plans. And, one way or another, you're going to lead us to them."

Sheppard ignores him, the other two men, and the glowing screen, staring off into space as _Lis_ pulls me out of the dark room again. The civilian leans back again, and again the bland smile returns, his posture and aura speaking of sharp-edged contentment. "Who is the Shepherd?" he asks softly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Cerebus—Chapter 3**

_+._

* * *

+.

**Liara in _Lis_**

Shepard ignores him, the other two men, and the glowing screen, staring off into space. The civilian leans back again, and again the bland smile returns, his posture and aura speaking of sharp-edged contentment. "Who is the Shepherd?" he asks softly.

I find myself underground again, in a large square room with walls made of concrete blocks and earthen tunnels exiting from two opposite sides. This room is well lit by ancient fluorescent lights that paint the room an artificial, harsh white. Around the room, twenty or so young children of various ages are clumped together in small group, talking quietly together or playing simple games with crude toys made. In the middle of the room are four metal tables, their sides and tops dented.

On top of each table is a pair of crude non-holographic computers facing towards opposite sides. Each computer seems to be of a different model, though they are all are clearly outdated for whatever time we are in now. Five of the computers are being used by adults, most of whom are perusing sites discussing everyday matters such as the daily news, recent technological innovations for personal gadgets, and for two of the men, crude pictures of skimpily clad human women and asari. Of the three remaining terminals, two are occupied by children playing some form of virtual games. It's in front of the last computer that I find Shepard.

She's much younger in this scene, perhaps barely over a human metre in height. Her hair is much shorter, its dark, thick trails hanging down to her shoulders. Her fingers fly over the ancient keyboard in front of her, and lines of letters and numbers leap onto the screen, in a language I don't recognize. After a few moments, the fingers stop, and then she bangs a final button and the text fades away, replaced by a model of the human body showing a patterned tracery of fine glowing lines and many, tiny nodes.

The simulated body starts to walk, its gait casual. Shepard bangs a few keys and the body starts to speed up. After a while, the nodes throughout the body start to beat like heart, sending pulses down the networks of lines.

The body continues to speed up, until it finally stops at a speed that is clearly beyond the ability of a normal human being to maintain. The beating of the nodes has increased also, matching the pumping of the simulated heart in the body's centre. The running on the screen continues, but it speeds up, as do the movements of the people working and playing around Shepard, until they are all a blur, moving in fast time, minutes passing in the space of a breath.

When time returns to the pace of experience, all the children are gone and the room is dark save for one glowing screen, the child Shepard still peering at it running body.

_The body is more muscular_, I notice, just as Shepard's quiet voice says, "Eight percent increase in muscle mass, and a five-point-six percent improvement in reaction time and explosiveness. That's better than last— Turian's pebbly shit!" Shepard swears, banging the table as one of the thigh bones on the screen seems to shatter into a few large pieces.

"Who did the Turians shit on this time, girl?" Shepard turns around in her chair, leaning her arms against the back with her legs to one side. She has to look up at the muscular man behind the chair. He's not tall, only a metre and a half and his hair is a dark reddish brown and wrapped in tight curls. His skin is almost as dark as night, and dull absorbing the light without any glow. His face seems almost twisted, his jaw and nose slanted so that their right sides are higher than the left ones. The smiling lips of his mouth are so thick they seem to fill the lower part of his face. His green eyes, however, are beautiful, seeming to almost glowing like polished jade. They turn this man, neither handsome nor physically imposing, into a presence that draws and fixes the eye.

"Hi Red," Shepard says, a brief smile lighting her face. "It's the bones," she continues, waving a hand at the screen. "They can't take the stress, even when I change the distribution of the implants."

"You're still trying to figure out how to use those tiny machines… what did you call them… nano-whatever's to make us stronger?" Red laughs quietly, shaking his head at Shepard. "What's the use, girl? You've told me yourself that the scientists are turning towards genetic treatments. Weren't you the one that told me that those treatments can make the bones and muscles stronger at the same time?"

"Yeah, but the genetics will always run into several limits." Red smiles as Shepard lifts one finger, like a father listening to a treasured daughter. "First, you can only add a limited amount of muscles before the body becomes awkward. Two, those muscles, and the tendons, ligaments, and bones that go with them, can only be improved by perhaps a maximum of thirty percent. These are limits imposed by the nature of the material. And three, even then we lack the ability to make the best use of those muscles. Our coordination is governed by our nervous system, and that system could be vastly improved to increased performance."

Red doesn't respond immediately. His brows come together and he scratches his head as he thinks. There's an easy, familiar sense of a ritual unfolding, as if they've had many conversations like this one. Shepard waits silently as well, calm, her face having its turn to display a soft, fond smile.

"Can't the genetic therapies alter the nervous system too?" Red asks finally.

Shepard shrugs. "Maybe. I've left some suggestions and ideas on how to do that in the extranet. I don't know if anyone's picked them up yet."

"Don't know… or haven't bothered to find out?" Red's smile this time is indulgent, his hand reaching out and pushing a stray hair from Shepard's face.

"Haven't bothered to find out."

Red goes to one knee, so that his face is on level with Shepard's. His eyes search hers as he asks, "And why wouldn't you just do the work yourself? You would probably have more luck than those pampered, preening Krogan fuckers out there."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Shepard scoffs. When she notices Red's smile widen, she hits him lightly on the shoulder. "The genetic stuff's just not that interesting to me."

"I don't see why not. Look at some of the stuff they're thinking of doing, like making it possible for us to digest plastics and metals. Given all the crap around here," Red waves at the dented tables, broken machinery and other litter around the room, "that would help us out a lot. Certainly might help all those new colonists on those strange worlds."

"Maybe," Shepard shrugs, "but they've outlawed that wilder stuff."

"Why?" asks Red, his brows coming together.

"Something about 'preserving Earth's unique biodiversity,' which I think is a worth as much as a Turian's balls. Why wouldn't the same logic apply to the various genetic faults they're currently trying to get rid of?"

Red laughs. "It's certainly never stopped them from trying to move us out of here. I guess 'scum of the earth' don't count as biodiversity." Shepard smiles briefly, clearly humouring him. Red shakes his head. "Sometimes, you're too serious, little genius. So, tell me, why would the Alliance outlawing the wilder genetic therapy stop you from exploring it?" Red points to the figure now standing on one leg on the monitor, its other leg still floating in little modeled pieces around the screen. "It's not like you've ever worried about the legality of tapping into the Alliance's new, pet comps."

"Look Red, you like women, right?" Red nods, his smile deepening. "Now, let's say there's a thousand of us instead of thirty or so, and that there's the same distribution of pretty and ugly ones as we now have. Now, you're planning which ones you're going to spend your limited time on…" Red raises an eyebrow and Shepard sighs. "Well, when you're not working that still of yours or playing around with the boys. So now, you've only got so much time and energy," this time Shepard ignores the raised eyebrow, "and a lot of women to choose from. So, would you choose whichever one came along, or would you choose the ones that seemed the most beautiful to you?"

"So, what's so beautiful about the cybernetic treatments?"

"It's not just cybernetics. That's just part of it. It's about…" Shepard pauses, looks around the room, carefully as if she's expecting someone to be lurking in the shadows. "It's about improving human intelligence," she says finally, still glancing from side to side, constantly checking the two corridors leading into the room. "There was research into it before, in the early twenty-first century, showing that in some ways we think not only in our brains, but through the various systems in our body." As Shepard speaks, her voice starts getting faster, her eyes shining brighter. "That our thinking is distributed all across our body. Which means that, for example, our immune system is as much a part of our cognitive system as our nervous system. And the same could be said for the—"

Red holds up his hand, laughing. "Girl, you're starting to lose me."

Shepard sighs, her shoulders slump a little. "I want to make us smarter and faster at the same time by putting little brains around our body that connect to the big brains in our head."

Red's eyebrows narrow. "That's what all these computers are for, aren't they?" he waves at the terminals around the room.

"Not really," Shepards says, shaking her head. "Those computers store lots of information for us, and they can do lots of calculations. Sometimes, we can even make them think for themselves, though that's mostly illegal now. But we haven't found a way to improve the way _we_ process information," she continues, tapping herself on the chest. "Our brains aren't keeping up with the machines we build nor the bodies we improve."

"With all that we've built," Red shrugs, "do we really need better brains?"

"You know why they outlawed AI?" Shepard asks almost before Red finishes, he words sharp and quick.

"Because they're afraid the AI's would turn on us."

"And why do we presume the AI would do?" Shepard snaps again.

Red lifts his shoulders, then lets them fall down. "It's because we think the comps would look at us and think we're worthless…"

"And, looking at what happened to the Quarians, they would resent the fact that we use machines and computers to do most of our work for us. And maybe," Shepard pauses, looking around the room. "Maybe, they're right."

"Zephyr…" Red sighs. He looks her deep in the eye. "Girl, there's more to life than thinking. You've got to remember that if you're going to survive this place."

"Drinking that swill from your still is more about dying that living, Red."

Red laughs, his eyes dancing as he pulls out a small metal bottle from his back pocket and offers it to Shepard. "You've never actually tried it, have you?"

Shepard grimaces, ignoring the bottle. Red smiles, lifting it up to his lips. "You don't know what you're missing." He takes a deep swallow, then sighs happily. After a few moments, his face turns serious. "Can you really do it, Zephyr? Can you make us smarter?"

"I don't know. They've also tried using genetic therapy to improve brain performance, but so far they've had little luck."

"Well, if they want us to get smarter," Red smiles, tapping Shepard lightly on the head with his knuckles, "maybe they should just crack open your head and study what's inside."

"Would you let them?" Shepard asks quietly, the corners of her lips slipping upwards.

"Not bloody likely," Red says, patting her cheek. Then his face turns serious. "What are you going to do when you figure this out?" Red asks, waving his hand vaguely at the screen. "And how's it going to help us? We certainly don't have the material or means to put it in our own bodies, so how's this going to help us survive and live better?" Shepard eyes now study the floor and when she doesn't respond, Red continues. "Can you sell the technology and make us rich enough to live out there, beyond the Fence, in freedom? Or at least to find us a place that's better than this? And what about our Blues? Can you make them stronger? Right now, all they can do is lift the occasional toy block. That might help us the next time someone decides to raid the tunnels again."

Red pauses, and his face now looks sad. "You've got it all up here, Zephyr, no doubt about it. And if you were out there, beyond the Fence, you would have anything you needed except…"

"Except my freedom," Shepard sighs when Red pauses.

"Don't ever forget that. You're part of the Tenth Street Reds now, and we do what we want without those Krogan fuckers out there directing our lives. Besides, those high-in-the-sky bastards with their fancy, cloud-touching squats will never listen to your ideas or give you a place. You're an orphan, you're poor, and you're part of a _gang_," Red drawls. "They'll just put you in some far away 'foster home' or whatever else they're calling the places where they put all the other misfits who don't belong in this new 'Golden Age.' And the only way out of that is to either hide out here or get rich and make your own place."

Red pauses, looking at Shepard, glancing occasionally at the screen as he waits for her to respond. She doesn't, though, just stares at the floor. Finally, he sighs. "You're nine, Zephyr, and in a few years, you're going to be old enough to start breeding. You know what that means."

"I get passed around to every stupid ass with a dick to see if they can get me with child," Shepard says, her words hard and flat.

"That damned eezo accident gave us the Blues, but it also made a lot of us sterile." Red places his hand on Shepard's shoulder. "We may not be worth much to those outside, Zephyr, but we don't want to just fade away into nothing. We've struggled too long to make our place here."

"I know," she sighs. "We should be able to measure fertility with a simple test…"

"But we don't have the equipment… Look, Shepard, I know you don't believe it, but grinding with the boys can actually be fun." Shepard grimaces and Red sighs. "I know you're not like everyone else here. You've got the stuff to do more, and the balls. So," Red leans forward, looking deeply into Shepard's eyes, "you're going to have to do two things. First, you need to find a way to make some money. You find a way to sell this stuff you're working on, well then there's no problem with the first problem. Second, you need to find a way past the Fence. That's going to be tougher, since the military's determined to keep this area off limits and they're not going to be happy when they discover we've been here for years right under their noses."

Red pauses, then sighs. "Maybe, you could find a way to make our Blues stronger. Do that and I'll talk to the others to see if some kind of accommodation can be made. No guarantees, though. Other than that… well, you know how it is." He pauses again, but Zephyr says nothing. "Go to bed, Zephyr," he says softly, kissing the top of her still downturned head.

As Red walks off, Shepard turns her head, watching him go with a sad look on her face. Quietly to herself, she starts to speak, "I am the good shepherd." With each word she utters, the _Lis_ scene slowly shifts back into the interrogation room. "I know my sheep and my sheep know me," Shepard's now older, her face once again marred by the dozen or more weeping scabs that will become scars, "just as the Father knows me and I know the Father." The General and the other two men now populate the scene, their faces hard, their brows creased as they listen to Shepard finish, "—and I lay down my life for the sheep."

"That's the Bible," says the General. One of the human religious books, _Lis_ tells me.

"The Good Lord," says the civilian in dark glasses, jabbing his finger towards the holo-screen glowing above the table, "did not put these ideas on the extranet."

"Red did," Shepard says. "The HK shot him when they raided our place."

"How convenient," the civilian drawls. "Do you actually—"

"Red had a modified gun that ripped through the best armour that the HK thugs had. The gun used bullets that were made from scratch, using the leftover tech and other junk available inside the Fence. That's why the HK killed him," Shepard wipes away tears from her eyes harshly, breaking open two of the scabs under her right eye. "They shot Red because he held the tunnels while the rest of us tried to get away. And when he was down, they kept shooting him because they didn't like that a primitive had killed a few of their precious, well-armed thugs. Doesn't that sound like your Shepherd? The stupid innocent protecting his flock, just like he was trying to help out humanity with a few new ideas?"

"And how would you know about this gun?" The General asks right away.

"As this man said," Shepard says, nodding her head towards her chest, "Red got what he wanted."

Like a flash of recollection, I see the younger Shepard handing over a rough, compact gun to a wide grinning Red. As her mouth moves silently and her fingers point out different features of the weapon, the sounds of another scene superimpose themselves. I hear gunfire from and Red's voice shouting over it, "Run Zephyr!" His voice turns to screams of agony as a series of loud bangs drowns out all other noise and the scene of the smiling Red and Zephyr is replaced once again by the interrogation room. Down Shepard's face, trails of tears and blood intermingle.

+.

* * *

_A/N: not the best breaks between sections, but I'm trying to keep some momentum._

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Cerebus—Chapter 4**

-

A/N:

+ All text communication is indicated by (( text ))

+ Not much traffic on this story, so this continues as a work of love

-

* * *

Like a flash of recollection, I see the younger Shepard handing over a rough, compact gun to a wide grinning Red. As her mouth moves silently and her fingers point out different features of the weapon, the sounds of another scene superimpose themselves. I hear gunfire from and Red's voice shouting over it, "Run Zephyr!" His voice turns to screams of agony as a series of loud bangs drowns out all other noise and the scene of the smiling Red and Zephyr is replaced once again by the interrogation room. Down Shepard's face, trails of tears and blood intermingle.

The General clears his throat and the other soldier is silent, but the civilian in dark glasses smiles. "What a performance!" he says clapping softly for a moment. Then he leans in, the smile gone yet again. "But I don't buy it. The person who put that stuff on the extranet was no damned hero." The civilian turns towards the soldiers, whose attention is on him now. "I had a whole team of psych's study these beauties and they all agreed on one thing. Whoever left them there wasn't doing it out of the kindness of his heart; he was just bored with them."

"How in the dark depths of space could they figure that out?" the General demands, his brows screwing together.

"It wasn't that hard really. Most people, when they leave an unfinished idea on the extranet, describe what they've found and then point out a few places where they're stuck. In those cases, the authors don't know where to take the next steps, and they're hoping someone else can. These beauties, on the other hand," the civilian shaking his head slowly at the glowing files above the table, "come with precise and clear instructions about how the reader should proceed. And the instructions worked more than fifty percent of the time, though it often took our experts a little while to figure out the exact details. And that, my dear General, means that the person putting them there wasn't seeking help. They just couldn't be bothered following up."

Without a word, the three men turn their heads as one to regard Shepard, who's busily wiping the tears off her face with her one remaining dirty sleeve. "Red had a lazy streak," she says finally. "Most of all, though, he wanted the world to benefit from his work."

"No more games," the civilian says, taking his dark shades off leisurely. It's like the man is finally peeling off the mask he's been wearing as the glasses come off. His face is expressionless now, hard and unfeeling as stone. The small brown eyes whose colour looks so soft, they are cold as ice, and the words that follow are as empty as space. "I don't think you understand the situation you're in now, Zephyr." Somehow, his use of Shepard's name tingles coldly down the _shili_ of my head. "Let me fill you in. We're looking for a one-of-a-kind genius. One of the truly rare geniuses that could help the Alliance skip forward technologically by a hundred years. Maybe more. We _can't_ believe that such a person was killed in some random raid. There's too much at stake, and we won't stop looking until we're one-hundred-and-twenty-percent certain that he's dead. That means, one way or another, you're going to tell us everything we need."

The civilian pauses, his eyes drilling into the side of Shepard's turned head. "Now, let me tell you why we haven't chosen our more… _effective_ methods yet. First, let's look at what the Alliance knows so far and then I'll tell you what we've learned from you already. The HK was, is, and will likely continue to be, the single most persistent and effective hackers of military and Alliance resources for the next little while. Now, the military and Alliance Intelligence have known for a long time that the HK was out there, somewhere, but they've eluded them so far. They certainly haven't been able to stop them either, no matter how much they changed their security measures.

"And yet," the man leans forward, "it's also become quite clear that the HK has never been particularly interested in helping anyone. Furthermore, they've got a reputation for an almost-military discipline within their ranks. Put that together with the fact that whoever put these plans out there," the civilian nods at the glowing projection, "was clearly trying to help out, and you've got a stinkin' pile of Turian shit that just doesn't make sense.

"Moving on, there's something very interesting about these plans, something that made it worth risking the strike teams we sent into the Blue Zone into the area, despite the warnings we received." The civilian's eyes dart towards Shepard, but she's still staring blankly off into space. "You see, each of these plans include the results of some previous and very sophisticated simulation modeling. In other words, before the plans were released onto the extranet, their author tested them using some very sophisticated computers. So, I asked my tech crew about who would have the resources to run the models. To be sure, they tested some of the models on various networked systems available, but they knew the answer almost right from the beginning." The man pauses, his eyes searching Shepard's stone-still face. "Only the Alliance super-comps have that kind of computing power. So, let's put the pieces of the puzzle together. One," the civilian lazily lifts one finger, "whoever put the plans on the extranet was likely separate from the HK. Two, they were using the most protected computer systems we have."

Again, the man pauses, two fingers now in the air. "It's the third point," he continues, raising a third finger, "that whetted our interest even more. You see, the HK were supposed to be the best, right? Even when we knew they existed, somewhere in this big, big universe, we couldn't find them and we couldn't stop them from getting in. But we could always tell, usually a day or two later, when the HK had used the super-comps. I won't bore you with the technical details, but essentially, we could 'smell' their presence in the logs even if we couldn't trace that scent back to its source. And the other things was, the HK were always interested in mining data. They never _used_ the comps to run their own programs. That kind of hacking took too long and was too dangerous.

"Except, that is, for this one time. There was this one time when we thought the HK were trying to actually use our computers," the civilian leans forward, his voice rising a little, his hand closing into a fist, "and we thought we finally had them. We had over a hundred techs backtracking that link, and they were closing in fast on the source. But then the trail just disappeared, just like that," the man snaps his fingers, and the scene blurs, _Lis_ pulling me back instantly into the crude, subterranean computer room of before.

The room is dark and empty, and Shepard is the only person still there. She's a bit older than the previous time I came to this room, the difference marked by a more mat ure face and body's that just started its change. Her dark face is lit a harsh, bright blue by the screen in front of her. On the screen is a model of a human being, it's body littered with glowing nodes connected by thick networks of bright pulsing lines.

"Zephyr," says a gentle, slightly rough and deep feminine voice. The speaker is outside the door, out of sight around the corner. "Are you messin' with the Alliance's new toys again?"

Shepard sighs, never taking her eyes off the screen as rolls her neck. "They're the only ones that can run the models."

"And what are you going to do when they decide they don't want to share their new, alien light comps with a little Blue like you?"

"They won't find me," Shepard grins in the dark, her teeth almost glowing in the screen's light.

"You're only what, ten years old and… Ah, who am I kidding?" the voice sighs. "C'mon girl, it's time for some sleep."

"You know I don't…" Shepard's words fade away, and she rubs her head. "Yeah, you're right, Mel. I do need a break soon. Give me another hour's juice, and then I'll shut down, okay?"

"Okay, Zephyr, but that's it."

Shepard sighs as the sound of receding footsteps mark the woman's departure, then pounds on the ancient keyboard. The nodes and lines on the body in front of her, a woman this time, grow more complex.

Finally, Shepard sits back, tapping a key, and the figure in front of her starts to dance. At first, the dance is basic, just a step from side to side, but then it grows more and more elaborate and complex. On the right, small graphs shift constantly and numbers race down the screen.

Shepard doesn't seem to notice when Red sneaks up, but when he burps loudly behind her, she ignores him. Chuckling, Red leans over her shoulder, studying the jumping figure on the screen and then whistling. "How in the world are you getting our Turian-turd computers to handle that stuff?"

"I'm not," Shepard says slowly, her eyes not leaving the screen, "I'm using their computers."

"Whose?"

"The Alliance's."

"You're jacking me, right?" Shepard shakes her head. "Now how in the world—" Red pauses, then sighs. "Would I understand the answer?"

Shepard doesn't answer, still distracted by the figure on the screen. Red doesn't seem to mind, though, and after a minute or two Shepard answers. "I got a program set up inside theirs. It's been at work for over a month now, creating some hidden pathways, doing it slowly so that the minders don't notice. It's a modified version of the one I used on the Hahne-Kedar's new comps, before they took them offline again. Once it's set up, my little program does the work I ask it to on the host computer, tells the host that it was scheduled by one of the people with top clearance. As it works out the results, it translates them and sends them to my terminal back here."

"Can't they trace that?" Red asks, frowning.

"Theoretically…? Yes. I've got the signal well scrambled though, and I've spread it through 37 different servers and a few specially designed filters I've placed in various key locations."

They settle into silence again, the quiet stretching into long minutes until Shepard's quiet voice breaks it. "Look at that, Red. Look at what that model is doing, that's better than last— Krogan' fuckin' grunts!" she swears as the screen starts to flash red. Her fingers start banging on the keyboard again and a screen pops up. Text flows to fill the box, faster than I can follow.

"You can't let them find us, Zephyr!" Red says urgently.

"Don't worry," Shepard mutters, banging a large key that makes the box disappear. "I also designed a few false trails, all of them leading to senior Alliance officials. Not that I'm going to count on even that," Shepard continues, calling up another box with a white background this time.

A minute later, Shepard leans back, her eyes flicking among the three scrolling programs running in boxes on her screen. Finally, the three programs stop almost simultaneously.

"Good," Shepard whispers.

"The gang, Zephyr?" Red asks, moving around the chair and pulling her chin towards him. "Are we safe?"

"Yeah, Red," she says softly, "we're safe." Red releases a long breath as he sinks to his knees. "I'm… I'm sorry," Shepard continues. "I guess I got overconfident. I'll be more careful next time."

"And why should I let there be a next time, little genius?" Red's words are softly spoken, but his friendly tone is gone. "It's one thing to let you do your projects all the time. The others moan about you're using more than your fair share of our power supply, but they know you're doing something more valuable than staring at vids and naked bodies. But if they start getting the idea that you might lead others to us, well... It's not an easy life here, Zephyr, but it's a free one."

"Red…" She stops when Red holds up his hand.

"You need a little inspiration. I thought the impending change in your status from child to woman would be enough for you to turn your thoughts to the gang's well-being, but I guess that wasn't the case." Zephyr opens her mouth, but Red stops her words with a finger to her lips. "It's time to stop playing games with the pampered masses, Zephyr, and time to grow up to your responsibilities. You've got six weeks to make me something useful, Zephyr, or I'm cutting you off."

"But Red…" Shepard starts to repeat.

"Do you understand me, Shepard?"

"Yes," she nods as Red searches her eyes.

"Six weeks, Zephyr," he says softly after a moment, patting her on the cheek before walking out of the room.

Shepard watches him go, sighing when it turns the corner and walks out of sight. "It's gotta be the biotic amps," she says quietly to herself, "and the Alliance is just getting started on their research. That means jacking the comps of one of the spike-heads. Asari-lesbis, I guess, since the lizards aren't nearly as good Blues." Shepard calls up a new screen into which she starts typing what must be commands. "I've never jacked the aliens before… I'm going to need some angles… someone must have tried getting into them before."

She calls up another program, and soon pages are flashing on the screen, never there for more than half a minute while Shepard scans them more quickly than I could ever read.

The scene quickens, and I see the fast-paced motion of accelerated time, days and nights passing with Shepard staring at the screen scanning page after page of information. And then, perhaps ten days or so into her search, she sits back and puts her arms over her head, a small smile lighting up on her face. "Oh, you were good," she says quietly to herself. "Very good. Got past the Asari security without them noticing, but I can see your footprints leading from their backdoor." Sheppard taps a few commands quickly into the computer. "Now, I just need to find out how you did it. And the quickest way to do that is jacking the hacker that can't make a fuss."

More time, perhaps a few hours, passes quickly. I can't tell what Shepard is doing; it's too different from the holographic omni-tools I'm used to. All I can see are the four to five small screens on the monitor that seem to be running programs at any one time. Finally, a new silver screen pops up, and text appears and then flows down it more quickly than I can follow.

"There we go and thank you very much," Shepard says quietly to the screen. "Hmm… not very subtle at all: overload the security with frontal assault and hope to slip in a smaller program on the side. If the Asari fell for that, well that's disappointing. Makes me wonder how far you really got in—" Suddenly, Shepard's eyes flick upwards, even as she hits two buttons. The running programs disappear, replaced by a model of a crude biotic implant as Red walks around the table.

"Talking to yourself again, Zephyr?" Red says, glancing at the screen. "What's that?"

"That's the best technology that the Alliance has managed to come up with for the Blues," Shepard scoffs. "It's a device that their techs are hoping they can plant in our brains to make them better able to use biotics. It's not going to work very well."

"Can you make a better one?" Red asks after a moment, scratching the side of his head.

"Should be able to, but it won't be easy given our limits on materials and technology here."

"I'm sure you'll figure out something," Red laughs, rubbing Shepard's hair and then walking off.

"Especially with some asari help," Shepard mutters, calling up her running programs again. "Okay, let's see who you are and what you were looking for from the asari. Of course, can't let anyone see what I'm doing…"

After another hour, again a new screen pops up, data tumbling quickly down the screen. "Hackers Collective? Oh please…" Shepard sighs sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "And you're developing another attack, I see. Similar kind, different sources… crude, very cr— Turians' tiny testicles!" Shepard bolts straight up in her chair, the clank of disturbed metal echoing lightly in the empty room as she stares with wide eyes at a simple white box containing three metallic blue, human words, which _Lis_ interprets for me.

((Who are you?))

Shepard ignores the query, banging the keys and entering text into another box. Numbers and symbols slide up the screen in what is now becoming a familiar scene. A minute later, the intruding words in the white box change.

((You're good.))

"You're better than I expected too," she mutters quietly. She types in some more commands into her box, then bites a nail as another program joins the first one on the screen.

New words start appearing in the white box, ((We understand the desire for privacy. We can help if—)), but then the white box disappears.

"But not good enough," Shepard whispers, the left corner of her mouth tilting upwards. "Still, never hurts to take extra precautions." Leaning forward, Shepard touches a screen on the box besides the monitor, and the computer shuts down with a loud whirl. Slow footsteps fill the silence that follows.

The scene shifts yet again, and Shepard is back in front of the screen, tapping words into a screen that _Lis_ interprets for me: ((We want to propose a trade.))

Words quickly fill the line below Shepard's words, ((Who are you?)) Unsurprisingly, the screen flashes red and Shepard calls her now familiar security programs onto the screen.

((Leave off the tracing,)) she types after a moment, ((if you want to get into the asari comps again.))

The red flashing stops almost instantaneously. ((Who are you?))

((We're an outsider who doesn't care what you're doing with the asari comps. We were the ones jacking you before, last week. If we had wanted to give you trouble, all it would have taken was a quick message to the Alliance.))

((Go on.))

((We want to propose a—)) Shepard pauses as the screen flashes red again. ((You've got three to stop your tracing.)) The screen returns to normal.

((You're good, but you don't want to mess with us. We've got 'friends.'))

((I'm sure your skills get you lots of friends. So what kind of friends do you think we have?))

Several seconds pass before the HK responds. ((What do you want?))

Shepard sighs and rolls her shoulders before typing her response. ((Trade. We help each other get into the Asari comps. Once in, we each grab what we need and get out.))

Another pause. ((What makes you think we want to access the lesi's computer? And if we do, why would we need your help?))

((Last time you got it, you used the old 'overload and feint' approach. For all the resources you put into it, you got about ten seconds of access. We can get you in for a minute, maybe two.))

((How?))

((We've got a program that will do the job. We'll send it to you just before the jack. You can try to unpack it later if you like.))

The HK's response is immediate. ((You think we're getting to let you upload an untested, unscreened program onto our comps?!))

((And do you think we're going to give it to you any earlier? You know as well as I do that you can protect yourself by physically isolating your core systems from the network before I pass you the program. And don't think about taking the program and running. It will have a five minute activation period, which we will only extend after we get into the asari comps.))

This time, the HK wait several minutes before responding. ((Sounds like you have all the answers. Why do you need us?))

((We don't need you, but it will make the job easier. You want in or not?))

((Get back to us tomorrow.))

Shepard stares at the blank screen long after the HK's last response, staring at the screen.

_Lis_ time passes quickly again. I see HK's response the next day. They want more time, they say, and they need to know more about who they're working for.

((You don't have to tell us names,)) the HK continues, ((but we do need to know that we're working with someone who can do the job. So, we would like you to do a few tests. Agreed?))

Shepard chews her nails for a moment, then types in, ((Agreed. For now.))

((Ok. We'll start with some simple tests. For this first one, we're assuming you can accomplish the task. However, what's more important is your explanation of how you accomplish it. That means using and telling us about a method that you feel comfortable sharing. Understood?))

((Understood.))

((Good. You have twenty-four hours to tell us the last transaction for account number XY34TTRE987 at the Shin Bank. We'll talk tomorrow at the same time as now.))

_Lis_ speeds up again, and soon it's twenty four hours later and Shepard is typing in the requested data and then a brief explanation of how she accomplished it. The HK respond with questions, all of which Shepard answers quickly, and then provide a new task to be accomplished the next day.

The pattern continues over a few days. The tasks seem to grow more complex each time, or so I guess since Shepard takes longer to accomplish each one and the post-jack questioning and discussion become more involved, moving far beyond what I know.

Shepard seems to enjoy them, though. After a week or so, she starts to smile when the HK responds to her contact. Jokes creep their way into the typed discussions as well, though Shepard turns down the HK's one request for a live video discussion.

Another week passes, and the HK agrees to work with Shepard on the heist of my people's computers. I'm not sure how I feel about this task. In one sense, I'm disturbed by the prospect of our secrets being stolen, and yet I can't help but feel the anticipation of their daring raid.

In the end, the jacking is almost anti-climatic. Shepard sends the program to the HK's comps, and soon a data stream on biotic enhancements slides smoothly across Shepard's screen, terminating after two minutes.

((Did you get what you want?)) Shepard asks afterwards.

((Yes, though I suspect your program may be more valuable to us. Thank you.))

((You're welcome.)) Shepard smile slips as she types the next words. ((Goodbye. It was a pleasure. ))

((Wait, don't go!))

((What?))

There is a pause, and then words cross the screen slowly. ((It's been a long time since we met a competent counterpart. We have learnt much from you and think we could help you as well. We have many resources and our knowledge extends far beyond jacking. We propose that a continued partnership would be mutually advantageous. And we… well I, really. I have enjoyed our chats as much as my organization has benefited from them. Will you be my friend?))

Shepard stares at the screen for a long time. Her thin face is etched in harsh blue light and sharp shadows. Her brown eyes are sad, and I realize that she's lonely. _Despite the community that surrounds her, including Red as well as other older members of the Ten Street Reds, there is no one who understands what she really cares about._ _The HK became her friend. This is how they got her._

Sadness overwhelms me as I see her type in, ((Okay,)) a tentative smile reappearing on her face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

There is a pause, and then words cross the screen slowly. ((It's been a long time since we met a competent counterpart. We have learnt much from you and think we could help you as well. We have many resources and our knowledge extends far beyond jacking. We propose that a continued partnership would be mutually advantageous. And we… well I, really. I have enjoyed our chats as much as my organization has benefited from them. Will you be my friend?))

Shepard stares at the screen for a long time. Her thin face is etched in harsh blue light and sharp shadows. Her brown eyes are sad, and I realize that she's lonely. _Despite the community that surrounds her, including Red as well as other older members of the Ten Street Reds, there is no one who understands what she really cares about._ _The HK became her friend. This is how they got her._

Sadness overwhelms me as I see her type in, ((Okay,)) a tentative smile reappearing on her face.

Shepard's shy grin is slowly replaced by the frozen stare she wears back in the interrogation room. The three men opposite Shepard are all silent, unmoving, staring at her with narrowed eyes and curled lips, almost as if they are the masks of one being.

Finally, the frozen scene is broken by the younger Commander. Leaning back, the Commander sighs, leans back. "I don't get you, girl," he says softly. "What do you owe this 'Shepherd'? Was he so good that you can't think about yourself anymore?" He pauses, then sighs again when Shepard doesn't respond. "Maybe he's even worth suffering interrogation for."

The Commander leans forward, his right hand reaching forward towards, but not touching, Shepard's hand on the table. "Zephyr," he says softly, and she turns involuntarily to look at him. "Look, we're desperate to find the Shepherd. We need him and we're ready to give him anything he wants. Well, almost anything. He would have the best resources available for his work, and plenty of people to take over the projects that he doesn't want to work on. He would live the best life we could provide, and you could have that too if you help us. You can live with him if that's what you both want. So if you help us, you've everything to gain. If you don't, you have everything to lose. I think that you're a smart lady. So why won't you help us?"

"Because you would kill the Shepherd," Shepard says softly.

"I suppose we've done nothing to earn—" the Commander starts to say, but the civilian cuts him off.

"I don't believe you," he says harshly, "and I've a nose for liars. But I'll humour you for a moment. Let's say that everything really is as you've said it so far. That would mean that the Shepherd really was caught by the Hacker's Collective, despite his apparently, vastly superior skill. So how did that happen? Can you explain to me how a moderately successful group of hackers managed to catch him?"

"And there was no other response you could make," Shepard sighs. "Trust. He came to trust them, and they used that to find him," she continues, as once again I'm pulled from the interrogation room to the hideout of the Tenth Street Reds.

"I still can't believe that you jacked the asari comps," Red says softly, staring at the virtual model of a Serrice Council biotic implant turning slowly around on the screen. "Aren't they supposed to be at least two generations ahead of the best Alliance hardware?"

"Mmm…" Shepard murmurs, "this is going to need a few adjustments to work for humans."

"How can you do so much with this antique junk?"

Shepard turns to face Red, her face studying him for a few moments. _Will she tell him about the HK?_ I wonder. "I found a way to route my jacking through some more sophisticated comps."

"And how do you know the asari or the owners of your borrowed comps didn't track your little fun romp into the plush innards of our little bi, horny neighbours?"

"They tried, and they failed," Shepard says, her face a bit too still and her voice too nonchalant. Red doesn't notice, however, his attention already drifting back to the biotic impact displayed on the screen.

"Can you make one?" he asks, his voice soft with a touch of wonder.

Shepard turns back to the screen. "It's not going to be easy. I'll have to adjust the wetware connections to adapt better to human physiology. That's not too difficult. The real challenge will be putting it together. We don't have either the equipment or parts I would need. So…" she turns back to Red, smiling at him with a twinkle in her eye, "I'm probably going to have to make the machines that can make the parts that I'll then use to make the machine that will make both the parts I need to make the machines that I will need to make the parts and the machines that I need to assemble those parts to make the implant. Then I'll need to all of that again to make the diagnostic machines to test the implants."

Red's eyebrows crease together for a few moments, and his lips shape words silently. Then he notices Shepard's still smiling at him and grunts, "Girl…," aiming a casual slap at her head which she easily dodges. "Can you do it?" he says more seriously.

Shepard nods her head slowly as she turns back to the screen. "I think so, but it's going to take some time to put it all together, and then we're going to have to do some serious testing. Live results are never the same as the simulations. And I'm serious about all the things I'm going to have to make. The parts this needs are both precise and nanoscopic. It will take several iterations of machines and parts before I can make the actual implants and then test them."

"How long?" Red almost snaps.

"A year, maybe two. Three if you don't keep the dick-happy jocks from bothering me with your swill and their tired sex jokes." She pauses, then continues, her voice now soft with wonder. "I've never done anything like this."

Red shakes his head as he looks down at her, then smiles indulgently. "And you're going to enjoy building it, aren't you?"

An answering smile blooms on Shepard's face like the sun breaking through the clouds. "Oh yes."

"Zephyr, you build this thing and make it work and I'll make sure that you can set your own terms on who you share your body with."

"Deal," she says, extending her hand, which Red shakes. "I need full access to the junk pile. I'll probably also need some scavenging help."

"I'll tell the gang what you're up to. They'll help out. But you know you've got to produce results, or you're going to have to pay the boys back for all those favours, both for what they do and what they don't do. You understand?"

"Yeah, I understand. But I'll get this built; you'll see."

"I believe you will, Zeph. I believe you will."

_Lis_ blurs, skipping through scenes of Shepard building machines, then using those machines to build smaller, more complicated parts with which she builds another machine. And that she does that two more times before she seems to be satisfied. By the time she's done, she's at least a year older, taller and more shapely.

She's happier too. Part of that is from the increased freedom and part of it from the work she does. But most of it comes from the almost daily conversations she has with her friend at the HK.

Most of the time, they talk about jacking techniques. Usually, it's her teaching her new friend, who asks her to call him Ju-Tek, various ideas and strategies, most of which I can't follow as she pounds them into the keyboard. Sometimes he shows her something she doesn't know. It took him a while to get to the point where he can surprise her. At first, she scoffed at his ideas, but then they started getting better bit by bit, or so _Lis_ tells me.

One day, Ju-Tek asks Shepard what he should call her. She hesitates for a few minutes, and then finally taps in "Shepherd."

((It's a funny name for a jacker,)) Ju-Tek types.

((I don't jack for profit,)) Shepard types back. ((I do it for my people.))

The response is close to immediate, ((Okay.)) After that, the discussion quickly moves onto the regular technical topics.

Shepard's main machines are done but, as Red reminds her from time to time, she still has to build the biotic implants and amps. At first, Shepard starts by builds what even I recognize are crude, simple implants, testing them mechanically by applying currents using one of the complicated machines she built and measuring the results with another one. Shepard's is relaxed during the first few months, but her expression grows more strained over time as she struggles to make progress and Red starts to grow impatient.

One day, after putting out the green flames that consumed her latest biotic implant, she slams down the water bucket and marches quickly ((What do you know about X-45 alloys, elliptar circuits, and fluctuating electro-magnetic fields?)) she types to Ju-Tek one day.

((Absolutely nothing! Why?))

((I'm just a curious girl—)) Shepard frowns, then hits a key that quickly deletes 'girl,' replacing it with 'person' before she sends the message.

((Well, I can ask around here. There's a few people who might know something. Anything specific you want to know?))

((How to stop the damn circuits from blowing up!))

((Fine, fine, don't tell me. Someone will be by in 10.))

As promised, another person joins the conversation soon after. I can't follow the content, but Shepard is nodding her head after a few minutes and taking notes.

((So,)) her friend types after the other has left, ((can you tell me what it's about?))

((Sorry. Too hot. Don't want to call down trouble on my people.))

((Understand that. It's hard living on the edge. You got a lot of snoopers on the ground where you are?))

((Not worried about that kind. Look, I want to go try these ideas out.))

((No problem, Shepherd. Talk again tomorrow?))

((Sure.))

The suggestions made by the HK person seem to help, and Shepard makes rapid progress after that. The implants she's building are growing in sophistication and so are the questions of her HK friend, though Shepard doesn't seem to notice. They're always asking little things that, when she answers them, give them hints about where and who she is. "We're freezing now, how about you?" "How reliable is the power supply where you are?" "What sports do you follow?" The questions are always quite broad, none of them asking her to reveal anything very specific. However, as an anthropologist I can see how the questions, when combined, are starting to paint a picture of the environment within which Shepard lives. A picture that will one day allow them to pinpoint her location.

One day, Shepard calls Red into her work space. All around her are different machines, all of them quiet now accept for a small one nearby, which is connected to a small, dull-grey, cylindrical device on the table. This implant prototype is about the length of one finger joint, its surface coated by some kind pattern of micro-nerve connections. I still shudder at the thought of non-asari putting something like this in their head to master biotics, and thank the Goddess that we asari do not require such aids.

"That's it?" Red asked.

"That's the start. Eezo creates dark energy when an electric current is passed through it. Blues have eezo nodules all around the body, but they can't control the nervous system enough to create a reliable mass effect field. This thing will both allow its wearer to do so."

Red scratches his head. "Okay, so you've built the thing—"

"It's only a test build. I won't know how it works until it's in someone. Even then, it's going to take a few years before they're able to use it properly."

"Why so long?" Red asks, frowning.

"Because none of us have ever used dark energy before. Imagine if you lost both your arms, and then you had to drink with your feet. Difficult, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Well, this is a lot more difficult than that because we don't have any experience in controlling our nervous system. It's going to be something completely new to us and we don't have anyone who can show us how to do it."

"Let me get this straight, Zephyr. We've just spend a hell of a lot of time collecting all the stuff you need for these flashy toys of yours. Now you're telling me that it's unlikely to work?" Red finishes, his voice rising.

"I thought I could make it easier, but I keep running into the same problem of inexperience. It's just so totally new to our brains, I don't know how we can train ourselves."

"What about the Alliance?" Red frowns. "Aren't they working on this?"

"Do you really want me digging into the Alliance's most protected systems? Their protection and surveillance has improved exponentially and their biotic projects are the most heavily secured of all."

"So… this thing," Red waves at the implant with a disgust that mirrors my own, "is the best you can do?"

Shepard sighs. "Yeah, for now… until I test it."

"And now, you need guinea pigs. How many?"

"One. Me." Zephyr looks Red full in the eye.

"That doesn't make sense, Zephyr. If you get sick or go insane or something like that, there's no one here who'll be able to help you."

"It's too risky, Red. Everyone's been so helpful; I can't ask anyone to do this. If it's me that suffers," she shrugs, "that's okay because it's my experiment."

"Zephyr," Red sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "this hasn't been about you for a long time now. I want results and that requires that you produce something that makes our gang safer, more powerful, and richer. So, either let us test this thing to see if it works, or make something that's better."

"It's not that easy, Red."

"You want easy, then drop all this and start making time with the boys. You want this," he waves at all the machines, "find a way to make the Blues work. And do it fast, because people are starting to wonder why I've been coddling your 'underage fantasies.'" Turning away, Red walks out stiffly.

"Turian's tiny testicles," Shepard says softly. "You make it sound so easy." She looks down at the implant on the table. "To use you, I've got to make us smarter. Now how do I… smarter…" Shepard suddenly turns around, heading towards the old, beat up computer terminal that's been moved into her workroom. She quickly calls up files that I recognize. It's her old cybernetic enhancement project based on a network nodes distributed throughout the human body—the same one she told Red could also improve human intelligence.

"Okay, so how do I put these two things together?" she says quietly to herself, tapping the keys to call up an image of her modified asari biotic implant. Soon, she's playing around with different ways of connecting the implant and network.

_Lis_ moves quickly again. At first, Shepard spends most of her time at the computer, playing with different configurations. The implant becomes smaller and smaller, then she breaks it up into smaller pieces, first two, then four and finally around ten pieces that are only slightly larger than the node points throughout the rest of the body. Finally, she seems to settle on one design, which she leaves glowing on the screen while she builds yet another series of increasingly sophisticated machines while the implant Shepard had shown Red gathers dust in a corner.

And each night, she talk with Ju-Tek online, not noticing how his little questions are slowly revealing more and more information about where she is. Shepard's online companion also tries a few questions to learn more about Shepard, but she's more wary of these, and he quickly stops pursuing them.

_Lis_ slows, showing Shepard considering a large needle, turning it from side to side, then end to end. It's filled with a thick, viscous fluid, so black that it eats the light. And the contents swirls, even when she stops moving the needle around, as if it's alive, and then I realize that what I'm looking at is a liquid filled with something else. _Are these her nano-machines?_ I wonder.

"No time like the present," Shepard says finally, lifting the needle and placing it against her neck. "Sorry, Red, but this is even riskier than the one before… and too damn exciting to let another go first." She carefully injects the contents into her body.

Shepard stands for a while quietly, as still as silence, the needle hanging loose from her hand. Finally, after ten minutes or so, she chuckles to herself. "I know it's going to take weeks to take effect, so why am I expecting something dramatic."

The nearby computer beeps, and a message scrolls across its screen. ((Hi Shepherd! How are you today?))

Shepard smiles as she sits down at the computer. ((Pretty good. You know that big project I've been working on?))

((You mean the one that you keep dropping hints about, but will never explain to me?))

((The very one. I've just started my first trial.))

((Jacking the Citadel hyper-comps? :) ))

((Too easy ;) Sorry I can't tell—)) Shepard pauses, then erases the words. ((You remember when we jacked the asari?))

((Yeah…))

((You tell me what you were after, Ju-Tek, and I'll tell you something in return.))

((You're making it official business, Shepherd, because if my bosses here caught one whiff of anything like this and… well you don't want to know what HK would do to me.))

Shepard bites her nail as she considers the words on the screen. ((You're right, it's not a good idea :( ))

((::Sigh:: I'm tired of these secrets too!))

Again Shepard pauses, then types in her next words furiously, sending the message with a loud banging stab at the keyboard. ((I'm making a biotic implant.))

The response is as quick. ((Are you jacking me?))

((No, and I can't tell you anything more.))

((You're a damn tease, Shepherd. Do the ladies all fall for it?))

Shepherd smiles as she lets out a deep breath. ((You bet.)) she types.

((Can you at least tell me this? Did you find a way to jack the Alliance's new comps? Is that how you got the design?))

((No. This is mostly my work, with a little help from the asari.))

((Damn, you've got balls and some pretty sweet wetware if you think you can pull this off. Do you know how desperately the Alliance wants to make biotics work? You figure this out and you could have anything you want for the rest of your life.))

((It's not for them.))

((You're not going to sell it to our… what is it you always say… our 'tiny-testicled Turian friends' are you? Or one of the other alien groups out there?))

((No aliens.))

The HK's response is slow to come. ((Look, Shepherd, you've got to know already that we'd be interested. I know you like your secrets and god knows we like our own. But if there's anyway we can help you make this work, and get a copy of the design at the end of it… well we would make it worth your while.)) Shepard is just starting to type her response when the next words follow, ((And don't answer now. Just think about it.))

Shepard stops typing, looking at the words with a sad, desperate longing on her face. After a few moments, she continues typing, ((I'm sorry, but I can't do that to my folks here.))

((Just think about it. We'll be here if you change your mind, and we'd be more than happy to take care of your friends too.))

((It's not that… it's hard to explain.))

((Shepherd, you always keep my life interesting. I've got to give you that.))

((That's my job, I suppose ;). You've been a good friend, JT. Sorry I can't tell you more.))

((It's okay. Like I said, the HK understands about keeping secrets. Let's talk about something else. Hey, did you see that eclipse last week? It was spectacular.))

((I loved the way it looks when the sun emerges again!))

((Yeah, that was a sight. Almost as pretty as those genetic enhancements they're working on over at…)).AsShepard and Ju-Tek become embroiled in a highly technical conversation about the latest genetic treatments, I think about Ju-Tek's question about the solar eclipse. Any solar eclipse follows a narrow path across the earth's surface. Since Shepard says she saw it, that means that HK can now narrow down her location to a small section of the planet. Add to that the fact that Singapore is surrounded in large part by water and it's seems clear to me now that the HK will soon know that Shepard is located in Singapore. From that, it won't be long for them to figure out exactly where she is using the data from the other questions.

The conversation between Ju-Tek and Shepard ends after a while and Shepard goes to bed. The next day passes peacefully, with Shepard spending most of her time monitoring the changes within her own body using one of the new machines she built earlier. The monitor in front of her shows a picture of her body, and lines of red show the slow advancement of the nano-machines through it. Near the injection site, both down her neck and moving up into her brain, green blobs of light show the growing activities of the machines as they seek to build the structures Shepard's planned.

But for all the wonder of Shepard's improbable project, I'm distracted by the sense of a storm is building just out of sight, crackling with danger for the residents in Shepard's compound. And yet, nothing happens that day.

The next day is a repeat of the first, and so is the one that follows. The pictures on Shepard's screens show increased activity throughout her body, which she hides from Red when he comes to visit. As for Shepard, she doesn't show any sign of the frenzied action inside her body, save that she goes to bed earlier each night.

The fourth day starts off no differently. Shepard wakes up a bit later, rubbing her head as she gets up. Grabbing her towel and a fresh set of clothes, she starts walking down the corridor to the communal shower. That's when she hears the shooting, then people screaming in the distance. Shepard turns, dropping her shower supplies and new clothes, sprinting down the hallway as fast as she can.

I've seen this scene before, and it passes quickly this time. The frenzied dash down the corridors; the secret, holographic door. The unexpected capture by an elite soldier who drops down on her from above. The quiet desperation on her face as she's dumped in a covered truck alongside other members of the Tenth Street Reds, then driven to a complex several kilometres away, though still within the forbidden Blue Zone.

Her captors' expressions are as cold as space as they roughly push Shepard and her gang members into the tall, grey apartment building that would late be destroyed by the Alliance bombardment. The corridors and rooms inside are equally grey and unremarkable, as are the various armed men lining each corridor in similar black and grey uniforms, all without insignia. The men all shout as they push the gang members along, never letting them stop for a moment as they're herded up the stairs.

Each of the prisoners is put into a separate room. The rooms look uniform as Shepard passes them listlessly. A simple mattress against the far wall, a bucket in the corner, a chair in the middle of the room, and a series of blocks of various sorts scattered haphazardly across the floor. Finally, Shepard is pushed firmly into her room. As she stumbles, and regains her balance, the door behind her slams shut with a bang that echoes around the bare room.

The scene fades around me as Shepard turns her head from side to side, her face etched with desperation. Back in the interrogation room, I see the same lack of hope on her older face, though it's deeper now, carved deeply into the flesh and bones of this barely adolescent girl. "The Shepherd," she says to the cold-faced men around the room, their expressions suddenly appearing mild compared to those of the HK soldiers I saw but moments before, "worked with the HK to hack the Serrice Council extranet server. After that, he began to have a regular correspondence with him. That took place over a year or so. My guess," she shrugs, "is that he revealed a bit too much information during the conversations, until they had enough to find out where he was."

"How could a genius like him," the civilian sneers, "make a stupid mistake like that?"

"He had no one else who loved the things he did. The rest of our gang, well we liked to have fun rather than think. It was part of the perks of being free."

"You're telling me," the general snaps, "that the same Shepherd who foiled the best intel experts of the Alliance and who, you say, hacked one of the toughest asari servers as well just gave away his location to the first person who was he thought was his friend?"

"He didn't have anyone else he could talk with about the stuff he liked to do," Shepard says more loudly, leaning forward and raising her hands. Then she starts slightly, putting her hands down too casually to be natural. "I couldn't fill that need for him."

The Commander's eyes narrow as he considers her, but the civilian speaks first. "I still don't believe you. No man in his right mind would risk everything this guy must have had," and again the man's eyes travel down and up the body of Shepard, "for a _friend,_" he sneers. Turning to the General, he continues. "I've had enough of this, General. Let's put her to questioning."

Before the General can respond, the Commander interjects, his voice surprisingly gentle though insistent, "Zephyr, please talk to us." Unlike the other two men, his expression has grown more thoughtful. I don't think the other two men have noticed yet; their hard, sharp gazes seem to dissect Shepard, like Krogan about to devour a long-awaited meal.

"There's nothing to say," Shepard responds. "You say you'll treat the Shepherd right, but all I see here is what I saw from the HK. You don't give a shit about him or the ideas he was trying to spread. You just want him to make you some new toys so you can go beat up the other bullies around the block."

"You think we're bastards," the civilian says, his voice once again returned to its false amiability. "That's about right, I suppose. It's what we have to do to protect the Alliance from its enemies, and no, I don't care whether you think it's the right thing to do. After all, what other choice do you give us with your fantastical tales? I mean, it's not just the improbability of it all. You know, the idea that a group of computer-hacking nerds went around snatching up some gang members and killing others, including the author of these stunning ideas. Even parts of this preposterous story are true, it wouldn't matter! Because Alliance Intelligence wants the Shepherd and so they are not going to stop looking and questioning people until they are one hundred percent sure that this man is dead. And the only way they are going to know that is if they subject everyone involved to the most thorough questioning available."

The man leans back as he continues. "That's where I come in, by the way. So, girl, what that means is that I'm going to wring everything you know about the Shepard whether you like it or not. And some of the methods I'm going to use are not going to be pleasant."

"You sound like some bad vid," Shepard says, her face and voice once again settling into bleak desolation.

"Doesn't change the truth, darling. You're going to tell me everything you know about the Shepherd. Might as well be now."

Shepard eyes search the face of the General, then the Commander, where they rest longer. His face is still thoughtful, but he's leaning back as if distancing himself from the moment. "So, basically it's better tell you something that you want to hear, even if it's a lie, then tell you the truth."

"No, it's not that simple. You see, I'll check the intel you give me..." The man pauses, then grins. "You won't like what happens if you've lied."

Shepard's next words startle the men a little; her voice is harder and so cold, like the deepest and darkest corners of space. "You think you're so damned smart. Well let me tell you something that _you_ don't understand. The HK wanted the Shepherd too, and they weren't nearly as 'nice' as you. So whatever you think you can do to me, the HK's already done it. And probably more."

"You don't want to find out, girl," growls the civilian, but his voices fades as Lis is filled with a rising crescendo of pain and despair.


End file.
